


Broken

by Canada2



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, THIS TOOK ME THIRTEEN DAYS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28211493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canada2/pseuds/Canada2
Summary: **I wrote this for my discords Secret Santa!There can't be anything wrong with Tommy.he is fine, he is good. he's not like his brothers...unless..
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 219
Collections: Completed stories I've read, the writer's block's Secret Santa





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TrashyCatLover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashyCatLover/gifts).



> hey guys, 
> 
> I hope you enjoy. If there's tags I should add let me know. 
> 
> Also this story goes over some very serious stuff in the prospective of a person who is struggling. If you are struggling I suggest you get any help you can.

Tommy had been about halfway through his _Among Us_ stream when the paper caught his eye. It was nothing special, aside the old blood dotting across the bottom half of the otherwise white paper. The blood was strange but it was the words written that really said something.

Tommy hadn’t been looking for the paper, in fact he’d rather had not seen it at all. But now that it had caught his eye, he can’t help but look every few seconds. A piece of paper shouldn’t distract him this much, but he can't help it. Chats noticed too. 

_Distractedinnit_

_PogChamp_

_ADHDINNIT_

_WOMENPOG_

_Thinking ‘bout women, feeling good!_

_POG_

_Distracedd much?_

After looking at the damn piece of paper for the umpteenth time, he turns back to the screen to play the game. Shaking himself from his thoughts, he occupies himself with tasks and witty commentary. This pattern continues for a few more minutes until someone called an emergency meeting. 

He should really move that paper before someone sees. Not that anyone comes to check on him much. But just in case one of his brothers decides to come barging in. Yeah, he should really throw it away. He could flush it down the toilet. Can’t, it will clog. Maybe burn it, so no one sees it in the trash. No, cause then Phil will smell the smoke and come check on him. Unless he opened a-

“-mmy? You wanna explain why I saw you standing in front of Card Swipe, and the task bar didn’t go up?”

Started, Tommy brings his mind back to the game. A quick glance at this screen told him everyone had already voted.

“Who are we voting for?” he asked, bouncing in his seat a little.

“You, Tommy. Are you even paying attention?” Techno laughed.

“Yeah, sorry. There was just this-” a glance to the side, “ … spider. This spider by my lamp. It’s quite distracting really. And what do you mean you’re all voting for me! I’ll have you kno-”

___________________

After the stream, Tommy locked his door and sat on his bed with the paper in hand. 

It is just... so innocent looking at it. Minus the blood, but that is easy to overlook. A white sheet of regular printer paper. Written in his, admittedly, worst handwriting, but that is excusable given the circumstances.

Lost in thought, Tommy scanned the words over and over again. The whole thing was done on an impulse, nothing had been planned, no triggers for it to happen. It just did. And this is the only proof, besides the half empty pill bottle and the paper cut he got, that something like this has ever happened to him.

_This paper really does belong in the trash._

The words are half assed and full of empty feelings, pen ink smudged over a few words and not even a proper ending or beginning. _If this had been submitted for an assignment, it would definitely be a fail._ He chuckled quietly, the feeling of abandonment and crushing loneliness he felt two days ago is long gone, and looking at this paper he feels silly. Why’d he do it? There was no reason to, he’s just been feeling off and so heavy of unidentifiable emotions he just did what he thought was right. _Right my ass._

Rolling his head to the side told him it was 5:49 and dinner would be ready shortly. Phil was cooking tonight so maybe what came out of it would be edible. 

Climbing off his bed, he allowed his long legs to carry him to his bedroom window. The sun had just gone down, leaving the first few stars to light up the night sky. In one fluid movement, he dug the lighter he stole from will out of his pocket and opened his window to the night air. It took a couple flicks of the lighter, but eventually he had a small flame.

The warmth of the paper catching fire and burning was more comforting than it should have been. He was relieved. The burden this paper had caused him the past few hours was overwhelming and he was glad to be rid of it. 

He was relieved that it was no longer part of his life, that it was behind him. 

_It’s in the past_

He was relieved that no one had seen it. 

_Oh god, what if someone had seen.._

Shame began to bubble in Tommy's stomach once more, much like the night before last when he wrote the dumb note.

_What is wrong with me?_

He’s just seeking attention. What he is feeling now, and then, those feelings aren’t real. They can’t be, he has no reason to feel them, so he shouldn’t. He’s not like Will, he shouldn’t act like it. Will needs the help he gets. Tommy doesn’t need to take that help away from him. It’s not fair.

Taking a few breaths, Tommy realigns his thoughts. There is nothing wrong with him, he’s not broken.Not like Techno. He doesn’t need help, because there is nothing to help. He is fine. He is happy. He has a great life, a great family and amazing friends. He has a dad who is endlessly proud of him, two brothers who spoil him rotten, and a best friend who understands.

He’s not broken. Not like his brothers.

Wilbur, who is so unbearably sad all the time, no matter the occasion.

Technoblade, who has social anxiety so bad, he can’t get out of the house most days.

He is fine, he is good.

He is Phil’s happy little gremlin.

_No_

He is-

_Please_

He is..

_You need help_

He..

_It’s okay_

..Is..

_Please, just this once_

Brok- 

  
  


-burned.

With a few choice cuss words, he lets the paper go, shaking his hand. After hopping around a few seconds he checks the injury. Noting too bad, but it will definitely blister. He crosses his room in a few strides, unlocks the door and heads to the bathroom to run his hand under cool water.

..He is fine.

On the outside looking in, Tommy appeared to have been in a fantastic mood. He woke up feeling well rested and in a general good mood. A package he had been waiting for arrived early, there was an extra coke in the fridge _and_ Phil made pancakes! That was just this morning! The video he posted yesterday did exceptionally well and he got a shit ton of editing done today as well. He felt accomplished, and _happy_.

All in all, a pretty fantastic day.

  
  


.

.

.

So, _why_?

.

.

.

_why_ _now_?

  
  


Why, as he lays on top of his bedsheets, is his heart fifty pounds in his chest, pinning him down? He's f l o a t i n g and **falling** at the _same time_ , gravity is increasing and his head is spinning. Exhaustion creeps into his bones like molasses. 

A soft groan escapes as Tommy tries to find the energy to move into a more comfortable position. _He’s so tired._ What the fuck is _wrong with him!?_ He begins to feel his throat tighten and eyes swell.

_Oh hell no._

Not today, not ever.

With strength Tommy had thought had left him, he pushed himself into a sitting position, frantickly scrubbing his face.

He is _not_ going to cry. Not now, and especially not over the fact he could get out of bed. That’s stupid and embarassing. A man wearing a yellow sweater and beanie popped into his head. Wilbur. This happens to Wilbur. He’s seen it, him laying in his bed for a long time, sometimes even days on end. Wilbur has felt like this.

_He knows how to help_

Wilbur will understand. 

_Talk to him._

He won’t be angry.

_He will want to help. Please._

He will listen.

_Get up_

Tommy’ll tell him everything

_Comeon!_

..and Will _will_ help.

_getup!PLease!Move!yes!standplease!_

..

.

..right?

_yes!please!GO!pleasepleasejustGO!_

_.._

_“Ignore Tommy, Tubbo. He’s been moody lately.”_

_“Tommy stop complaining, we'll buy more coke later. Geez.”_

_“Stop yelling, would you!”_

_“Phill! Tommy stole-”_

_“Ignore him, Tech. He just wants attention.”_

_“Do you hear anything, Phil? Tech? No? I thought so.”_

_“Tommy wants to come, Niki? Is that alright? He’s been a bit clingy recently.”_

_.._

_...right?_

Tommy, admittedly spent longer thinking about it then he would want to admit. It just makes sense that Wilbur wouldn’t want to help him, hell, he might even make fun of him for it. _He wouldn't’_. After all, Tommy is just his annoying little brother. He’s not even _needed,_ Phil adopted him out of pity and probably regrets it. It would be better if he wasn’t here. 

If he disappeared, 

if he never existed, 

if he-

.

If he **_killed_** _him_ self.

..

.

  
  
  
  


He could.

  
  
  
  


He

  
  


..knows how.

  
  


..it’s like a second chance.

He failed last time, but now. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Now, he won’t fail, not again.

Tommy stops his hand before he knocks on his brother's door. ~~_Nopleasewearesoclose!_~~ When did he even get over here? ~~_Stop,goback,pleasegoback_ _!_~~ Leaving his brother’s door, Tommy begins plotting. If he is to succeed, he has to do it as fast as possible, in case he chickens out.

With a new found pep in his step and a smile on his face, Tommy makes his way back to his room to plan. Making plans for anything is always fun.

  
  
  


\----

Turns out, planning is easy once you’ve done it before. This time, he just has to be more thorough, this has to work and he can’t get caught. _No one noticed last time._ Tommy runs through his plan once more, just to be sure.

Step 1:

**Get the goods.**

_Nothing can happen if he doesn’t have what he needs._

Step 2:

**Pick a time.**

_Tonight. At 9pm._

Step 3: 

**Write a note??**

_Should he? What’s the point?_

Step 4: 

**Is there a step four?**

_Say goodbyes, I guess? But isn’t that what notes are for? Is he even doing a note?_

Getting the pills wasn’t that hard. And given that he did manage to swipe some before, it was just as easy the second time. But this time, he needs more. He can’t settle for the pain relievers he used last time. No, this time he needs the big guns.

A small handful of Phil blood pressure medicine, about five of Techno's anxiety pills and Wilbur's antidepressants. 

In the past few hours, Tommy did research about the pills he was about to take. First, Wilbur's medication is quite high, and if he was going to make it past today, he should talk to his brother. 

Secondly, it is highly suggested you don’t take any other type of pill with Techno’s anxiety medication. They don’t mix well.

Finally, and most importantly, Phil's blood pressure medication. Phil has high blood pressure and so he takes medication to lower it. _Tommy_ , on the other hand, they discovered at a young age he has low blood pressure. What happens if you mix those two? You get a heart too weak to pump blood to the rest of the body, and it gives up.

And Tommy couldn’t wait.

~~_Please stop.i don't want to die,please_ ~~

  
  


\----

9pm hit harder and faster than Tommy had been anticipating. He had bid his family goodnight about half an hour ago, before retiring to his room. He was nervous and excited for what he was about to do. ~~_That’s not right_~~ _._ And now, he sits at his desk, pills in hand and water in the other.

And just when he was about to toss it all back, he got a notification on his computer. A few clicks later told him it was his family, doing a late night stream without him.

  
  


He turned sour.

He was angry. **Angry** his family wanted to do that without him, _to leave him_ by himself. To his own devices as _they_ all have _fun_ together. A _real_ family, without _him_. They don’t _need_ him, they don’t _want_ him. 

They are better off without him.

  
  
  


Suddenly why he was doing this became real. 

Phil, Technoblade, Wilbur. They don’t want or need him. They are happier without him, better off even. He’s just a burden, another mouth to feed. They don’t really like him, they just tolerate him. 

He’s not needed

He’s not wanted

  
  


He is a burden.

  
  


He’s doing this for them. He’s doing it because he loves them. Even if they don’t feel the same. This isn’t for himself. This isn’t some new adventure or elaborate plan or prank. And maybe, yes there is something he is getting out of this, but it is for his family.

His family.

  
  


It’s 9:17 when he takes the pills and downs the water. Wincing at the taste and his sore throat, he adjusted his headset, _when did he put it on?_ A started watching his family's stream.

They had set up in the living room. Phil in his chair by the fireplace, and Wilbur and Techno on the couch adjacent to him. A Sleepy Bois Stream.

Settling in his chair, Tommy watched.

He watched his father scold his brothers for joking too far, but laughing with them. He watched as they played a quick game of _UNO_ , he watched as they talked, and laughed. 

Without him.

His mind began to fill with thick fog not long after. He was tired and sluggish, and he so desperately wanted to lay down and sleep, but he kept watching.

“-chat. Can you stop asking where Tommy is. “ More of a statement than a question, “He’s doing what other children are doing at this time, sleepin’” bless Techno.

Wilbur shuffled in his seat,

“I know chat, I was shocked too when I found out he actually sleeps, but it’s true. Gotta recharge that gremlin battery, I suppose.”

“He’s actually sleeping a lot more than he used to,” Phil chimed in, “ I’d be worried if he’d been getting a normal amount to begin with. But now he’s maybe capping off at six hours a night.”

Techno and Wilbur nod,

“Too much editing.”

It was quiet for a moment.

“He’s not even here and he’s the center of attention!” Wilbur says, jokingly, “New topic.”

  
  


Not able to watch anymore, Tommy closed out the stream. He sat there, trying to form a clear thought on what to do. Should he sleep? Or stay awake as long as possible?

Before he could really think anything coherent, Tubbo began calling him on Discord.

After a few miss clicks, He answered.

“TOMMYY!!!” is what greeted him from the other end of the line.

“‘yy, B’g T.” Very much less enthusiastic, and much more slurred.

It was quiet.

“Are you okay, Tommy?” he’s so caring

“‘M fin’. Wats’ p’” _his chair is so uncomfortable._

“..are you sure. You sound..off.”

“‘st ‘ired.” Tommy disconnected from his computer and moved to his phone, so he could climb into bed. “‘Go ‘n”

“..okay, if you say so. So, earlier chat said-”

It wasn’t long after, but Tommy stopped processing Tubbo's words. He let them filter into the background, and his mind drifted off.

He was going to miss moments like this. Where Tubbo would call him at the end of the day, and they’d talk and bicker over the day's events. Eventually, falling asleep on call, and doing it all again the next day. _I'm going to miss you, Tubbo._

He was going to miss Wilbur. He was going to miss when he'd barge into his room when he was editing just to test out his new song or something. He was going to miss asking for help with homework. He’s going to miss his brothers. _Wilbur.._

He was going to miss Technoblade. He was going to miss his stupid pink hair and amazing hot chocolate. He was going to miss the faux fencing matches they had, and the pillow forts they made. And his endless knowledge on epic tragedies. _Techie.._

He was going to miss Phil. He was going to miss his pancakes and the smell of his aftershave. He was going to miss the proud smiles he got and the ruffles of hair. He was going to miss his endless knowledge and terrible dad jokes. He was going to miss him. _Dad.._

He was going to miss his family so much. 

Tommy’s throat tightened and eyes swelled.

_..just this once.._

  
  


And he cried.

He cried for all he was losing and for everything he never had. He cried for his friends and viewers. He cried for the videos he never made, and the people he never met. He cried out of desperation and loneliness. 

_Maybe he made a mistake.._

  
  
  
  


Panic flooded his mind, he was going to die. He just committed suicide, he’s killed himself. He ‘s dead. 

  
  
  


He was going to die.

  
  


He began hyperventilating.

  
  


The black spots he never noticed, began to over take his vision.

  
  
  
  
  


Then..

  
  


_I'm so sorry, Tubbo._

Nothing.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**“TOMMY!”**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Someone’s crying.

  
  
  
  
  


There's a hand holding his own, 

It’s warm.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He’s being moved.

Carried maybe?

  
  
  
  
  
  


Someone is running hands through his hair, and whispering.

“ _It’s going to be okay, my sweet, sweet boy. Just hang on a little longer. Oh, you're so strong, my baby boy.”_

~~~~

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Wilbur asked, for the _millionth_ time that day. “Me and Techno are going to, but you don’t have too. It’s very private information.”

It has been a few months since that night and while the road had been bumpy and full of potholes, Tommy is finally in a good place. He was medicated and seeing a therapist, which was admittedly terrible and awkward at first, but they got there. In the beginning he had to cut back on streaming, which he was _still pissed_ about, but it was for his health and it did good in the long run. He’s spent a long time recovering and accepting what has happened, and while he isn’t going to tell the whole story, he figured he might as well raise awareness. Just like his brothers.

His brothers. Since that night, he and his brothers had gotten closer. It was like in some strange twisted way they bonded over what had happened. Many a late night conversations in the living room with steaming cups of hot chocolate can account for that. It was talking with his brothers that got him this far. It was nice, having someone who understands and doesn’t pity you.

So, in some roundabout way, you could say his brothers had inspired him to try and help others.

_How sweet._

“It’s fine, Will. Nothing I can’t handle, and besides,” he looks directly at Wilbur, “I want to help people, too. Like you.” Wilbur gives a sharp inhale and Tommy quickly looks away, embarrassed.

“Awww! Tommy~” Wilbur is quick to sweep him into a hug before Tommy could escape.

“ACk! NO! LEt mE Go! PHIL! Help! WILbuRS SQuISHinG ME!” 

As the remainder of the family comes bounding down the stairs and from various rooms, Tommy thinks. He’s got it good. And while it’s not like this all the time, and sometimes he wants to curl into a ball and disappear, and other times he’s on top of the goddamn world. At least he has his family to help him out.

So, it might not be okay all the time.

  
  
  
  


Tommy, now completely submerged in a group hug. With Wilbur resting his chin on top of his head, arms circling around him tightly. Techno is holding him firmly from behind, resting his cheek on Phil's shoulder. And Phil, his dad, next to Tech, holding as much of all three of them his arms will allow.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Some of the time suits him just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> If you were curious, I had written this with Bipolar in mind. I figured that it would be interesting to write it in, and it often can get confused with other mental illnesses, such as depression. 
> 
> so basically, Bipolar Tommyinnit!


End file.
